


i'll take on the world for you, better believe it

by wheretheskiesend



Series: lotr | aralas oneshots [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: M/M, aragorn is a gentleman, gimli is an animal, legolas can't hold his ale, the story continues, what are these tags honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 04:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheretheskiesend/pseuds/wheretheskiesend
Summary: the saga continues. . .





	i'll take on the world for you, better believe it

**Author's Note:**

> i'm *back*! did y'all miss me? i know i really missed posting on here, so let's get on with it! let me know what you think in the comments below!

_ “My hair is fairer than all the stars in the sky!” Legolas proclaimed, waving his hand widely and hitting Aragorn in the nose. “It can never be compared to car...car...cara...caramel!” _

 

_ In the background, Aragorn rubbed his nose. “Wonderful.” _

 

_ Gimli barreled on, ignoring the elf’s look of horror at the descriptor chosen for his hair. “Aye, but that is the color of your hair, lad. Aragorn will tell ya.” _

 

_ Legolas turned around to face his friend, wobbling at the knees. He planted his hands firmly on Aragorn’s shoulders and leaned in close, their noses only a hair’s breath apart. _

 

_ “Do you think my hair is as fair as starlight?” He stage-whispered. Aragorn leaned back slightly, but Legolas toppled over, falling in his arms completely. _

 

_ Aragorn pressed his lips together as he snuck a glance at Gimli. “Your hair is fair as starlight.” _

 

_ Legolas pouted. “But it is not fairer?” _

 

_ Aragorn sighed heavily. “It is as fair as you say it is,  _ mellon nin.  _ What more could you want me to say?” _

 

_ Legolas shook his head, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes, which both Gimli and Aragorn watched in horror. “You do not mean what you say.” _

 

_ Aragorn lifted his chin up gently, with two of his fingers, tilting his head so that his hair would not obscure his vision. “Legolas, I do not say that which I do not mean.” _

 

_ That seemed to cheer the elf up. “That is good to hear. I do not want you to think any less of be if my hair is not as pristine as it always is. It is not the color of sweets, no?” _

 

_ Aragorn frowned. “It could never be the color of sweets,” he agreed flatly. “Although I think it is time for you to get some sleep now.” _

 

_ Legolas leaned closer, resting his head on Aragorn’s shoulder before lurching backwards suddenly. “No! I have not won yet.” _

 

_ “Won what now, Legolas?” _

 

_ “Gimli hath challenged me to a drinking contest. I do not see him, he must not think he has won,” he insisted. “What do you prefer, Aragorn?” _

 

_ Aragorn raised an eyebrow. “I would prefer that the both of you set aside your issues so I may get some sleep this night,” he deadpanned. “I would prefer that I not have to take the mantle of the king of Gondor. I would prefer to not have to worry about Frodo and Sam and what danger they might be in, in the this moment.” _

 

_ “I can think of things far better than sleep, this night,” Legolas offered coyly. _

 

( Aragorn choked on his ale. Legolas looked mildly confused, but to be fair, there was no guarantee he’d even heard Gimli properly.

 

“What?” Aragorn demanded. Gimli grinned wolfishly, and he instantly regretted ever asking the dwarf to tell the story.

 

“Do you wish for me to repeat it?” He offered, but Legolas shook his head.

 

“Nay, we heard you, but I do not understand what you mean. Aragorn was tired, was he not? Why would I keep him from sleep?”

 

Éowyn smiled softly. “I would have thought that the Prince of Mirkwood would know much more of these matters, would he not?”

 

The elf turned to her, a faraway look in his eyes. “It has been a time since I have been simply the Prince of Mirkwood, Lady Éowyn.”

 

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Aragorn simply shook his head at Faramir, who looked far too amused with the current situation.

 

“When is Boromir to return?” He asked, to change the subject more than to know the answer to his posed question. He knew the steward’s eldest son was but a fortnight away from Minas Tirith, but Faramir did not know he held this knowledge.

 

Faramir did know he held this knowledge. “He is but a fortnight away, you yourself told me so, did you not?”

 

Aragorn swallowed the contents of his mug without a second thought. “Did I?” He asked airily. “I do not remember this. Perhaps it is so.”

 

“I, for one, would like to know exactly how Legolas managed to keep Aragorn from his slumber,” Frodo offered, in what seemed to be an innocent voice, but his blue eyes were sparkling with mirth in such a way that Aragorn knew he did not truly wish to help him.

 

Gimli belched loudly. “It is done, then. We shall continue. . .” )

 

_ Aragorn shook his head. “What could you possibly have the energy to do now,  _ mel _? You can hardly stand on your own.” _

 

_ Legolas shook his head indignantly, his hair falling over his shoulder. Aragorn watched with a fond, but amused smile, his eyes soft. _

 

_ “Perhaps we should get you cleaned. What will people say if they see the Prince of Mirkwood stumbling over his own feet with beer over his hair and clothes?” _

 

_ Legolas pouted. “They will not know who I am.” _

 

_ “Either way, you should get some rest now if we are to leave tomorrow morn,” Aragorn countered easily, sensing that Legolas was growing tired. “I do not think you would wish to be of poor health during our travels?” _

 

_ The elf shook his head. “No.” _

 

_ Aragorn shifted their position so that Legolas was tucked into his side, his right arm around the elf’s waist to keep him upright. He found Éomer in the midst of the crowd and nodded to him, tilting his head towards Legolas, who had made himself busy in braiding Aragorn’s hair. _

 

_ Éomer nodded back, mirth playing at his lips as he watched them go. Gimli sat up in that moment, burping as loud as a Shire frog before sitting falling back again, his head hitting the stone floor with a loud thunk. _

 

_ Éomer looked down, amused but shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Master Dwarf, perhaps I should see to it that you return to your room?” _

 

_ Gimli harrumphed loudly. “Nay, ‘tis my duty to follow Ara-las,” he returned. Éomer raised an eyebrow. _

 

_ “Ara. . . las?” He echoed. Gimli nodded once more. _

 

_ “Aye, Aragorn and Legolas. Where have they gone? I was outdrinking the lad, did he leave for that?” _

 

_ Éomer nodded slowly, understanding. “No, you most definitely won, he was only helping the elf back to his room. Poor thing was so drunk he could barely stand.” _

 

_ Gimli chortled with delight. “Hah! ‘Tis I who has won then, if what you say is to be true. The elf is simply smashed, is he not?” _

 

_ Éomer muttered in his breath, “Oh, he will be.” _

 

_ “Hah?”  _

 

_ “Nothing, Master Dwarf. See to it that you get some rest this night. Éowyn is calling me, I shall see to what she needs.” And with that, Éomer ducked out of the conversation. _


End file.
